


The Dreaded After-hours

by AlmightyPuddingLord



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Blood, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3421238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmightyPuddingLord/pseuds/AlmightyPuddingLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if? What if this thing they had was nothing but a lie, a scam no one else could know about but them? What if that "friendship" so many claim is the strongest bond between them, was the product of simple acting and money?<br/>Well, unfortunately for Dan, this just happened to be the case with his co-host, Arin Hansen. This was something that, of course, the rest of the internet was not aware of. Seeing as not even the rest of their "friends" knew.<br/>Dan knew Arin had a plethora of masks and personalities he used to skilfully deceive the viewers. But whenever his truest form shone trough the many layers of comedy and laughter...the most pristine form of the man was something Dan feared rather than appreciated.<br/>(Pardon the long summary)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the characters depicted in this fan-work do not reflect the actual people, nor the way the author views them. This is simply a "what if" scenario, not a reflection of real life.

The figure of a tall, slender lad rested unceremoniously sprawled out on the hard surface of the floor, surrounded by many electronic devices and more cables than he cared to count. His face wore no expression, though his checks were stained with traces of tears, his tainted mind struggled to breathe trough the flood of questions and actions of the previous night.

 He attempted to move his arms dyed in greens and purples. It hurt. But he had to move. It was more painful to keep still, his restless brain wouldn't let him. He blinked. The early sun rays seeping trough the gap between the curtains hitting his retinas, truly not helping his migraine. 

Carefully lifting his palm, he guided it over to his exposed legs. He whimpered as he meticulously rubbed circles with his thumb over a painful spot on his inner thigh. Everything hurt.

How did he end up like this again? Oh, right. Arin.

Why though? He couldn't seem to remember...All that came to mind were a couple of words that weren't his, though they continuously circulated through his thoughts.

"I hate you..."

They were heated words. Their voice was loud, angry, probably directed at himself. But he couldn't recall why... After the screams there was just...a feeling his thoughts were too convoluted to name. And pain. It was still there.

"...so much"

\---------------------------------------

A soft knocking sound came from behind a locked door, startling the scrawny figure. An uneasy voice was muffled by the wall between the messenger and the receiver. But he could clearly hear it calling, "...Danny? Are you in there?..." It kept repeating his name.

Snapping out of his trance, he hurriedly attempted to mumble some response. "Eh, yeah! Just gimme a minute Barry, I'll be right there!" His own voice was horridly hoarse, but wether his roommate had not noticed or at least pretended not to, he paid no mind to. He struggled to scramble for his discarded clothing scattered around him, and put on whatever he managed to reach. A loosely-fitting, long-sleeved shirt and yesterday's jeans...it would have to suffice for now.

Limping, he somehow managed to make his way to the door and unlock it. He slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open, peeking his head out trough the gap. What greeted him was his roommate's expectant and slightly annoyed expression.

"So you were sleeping, and here I thought you died or something. Dude, you were supposed to be up hours ago!" Oh right, work. He tried to chuckle, but managed only a sound like a chocking animal and a cough. Barry was looking at him now, examining what he could see of him.

"Heh, yeah. I guess I kinda forgot and overslept?..." To anyone gullible enough to believe this, it would have sounded as if he was telling the truth. But Dan was a terrible liar, and Barry knew it all too well. His face slowly morphed from it's previously annoyed expression to one of concern, then he brought a hand to rest on the surface of the door. Looking down he then asked the thin figure behind the door, "Dan, are you okay? Man, you look like shit. Plus I called you like, ten times and you didn't answer your phone. So I drove back from the office to find you like this, seriously what happened to you?" He was serious, and Dan would have played it off jokingly if his fatigue levels weren't at their maximum.

He was about to reply with some shity remark along the lines of "Nothing man, I'm okay. Just really tired." But when he tried to fix his eyes on Barry, he found he couldn't see him. He could hear him. He just couldn't see him. He kept repeating his name. "Why?" Was the last tough that passed trough his mind before he felt a brute force hit his body. There was a pressure on one side of his face, and a liquid running down the other. Was his nose bleeding? He would have wondered. But the only thought that crossed his mind before darkness engulfed him was that Barry was gonna be really angry with the stain on the carpet.


	2. The Scapegoat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Navigating through a broken man's mind is never pleasant. Specialy when said man is haunted by a malicious shadow.

Red. Red was all and everything that lingered in his vision, for his mind had isolated itself within his memories. His pains had to be ignored somehow, but the mind is a cruel thing. And it could not have foretold that his long awaited (however not intentional) rest would be plagued with the wavering shadow of another...of Arin

When? When was it that he began to notice the ever so subtle difference in emotions the two harboured for one another? When was it that he started to suspect there was something else, something much somber in Arin's gaze? When was it that he realised his "friend" could think to describe him with any other word but that one? And when was it that he realised he was in too deep, that it was too late to stop the cogs and cranks of his turning fate? That it would all come crashing down upon him eventually, all in the form of...him.

If there was one word Dan could use to describe the first time it ever happened, it would probably be really fucking shocking. It began innocently enough, like any other day of them cramped on a couch playing video games. It was around this time Dan had begun to suspect there was something behind Arin's cheerful persona, and that he was the only one who could tell.

He can't say he remembers most of it, since a big chunk of this memory was simply....screams. His? Most likely.

The most vivid part was...probably... when it became physical.

It started shortly after one of their many recording sessions, ending as usual with some joke or another he probably wouldn't remember later. It was at that unfortunate time that Suzy just happened to come back from who-knows-where with...coffee? Was it coffee? He couldn't fully recall, so it would have to do. Suzy came back with coffee. And Dan, as he would usually do, thanked her with a hug and a, "thanks a bunch Scoze!" or something like that. But today...he could feel something was off, a mysterious pair of eyes burning holes into him with their scorching stare.

It was after Suzy went over to where Arin was seated to give him a tender kiss on the cheek, Dan saw something...ignite, click would have been an understatement. For some reason, Arin asked Suzy if she would be alright staying on her own for about an hour or so.

"I think Dan here may be just a teensy bit out of it, I'll drive him over to his and Barry's. Don't want him falling asleep on the way there and waking up in a ditch somewhere."

At the time, he was okay with that. Free ride home, that would be fine. Had he been any more awake, perhaps he would have noticed the malice underneath Arin's lopsided grin. Or perhaps even then he would not have been able to notice after all. He was never really that precise with reading the atmosphere.

Somehow he had gotten himself up to the passenger seat in the following blurry moments, and Arin of course made his way over to the driver's seat beside him. It may have been the sleep-deprivation, or the lack of caffeine in his system, but he had managed to miss the way Arin's knuckles whitened and the stretching sounds of leather increased along with his grip on the steering wheel. Had he noticed, he probably wouldn't have requested the help getting to his front door. He probably would not have mentioned Barry's absence either.

There was little to no conversation between the two, and a strange tension migrated into the space between their seats the closer they got to their destination.

After a few more painfully silent moments, Dan found himself standing before his door, key in hand and ready to turn the knob. He was about to turn around to thank Arin, but was stopped before he could begin by the feeling of being tackled to the ground, and a presence looming over him.

"What the fuck was that, Arin?!" He managed to scream. No words came from Arin, the only response he heard was a low and quiet chuckle. Or maybe it was a cackle, he couldn't recall. Perhaps it was due to the ringing in his ears that followed his head hitting the floor, or most likely because of the menacing way Arin was holding him in place by his shoulders.

To say Dan was scared would be an understatement, he wasn't scared. He was terrified. The man above him had the eyes of a madman, a stare that could only be compared to the way death must smile at the poor souls about to be taken. He couldn't say anything, his vocal cords seemed to have been frozen along with the nerves that should have urged him to fight back. But he couldn't.

For moments that seemed to last for eternity he forgot how to breathe, the air could not escape his lungs. Then Arin slowly danced his hands from his shoulders over his collarbone, lingering for mere seconds before resting on Dan's neck. The motion of hands stroking lines along his neck made Dan sharply inhale, and his pupils dilated to display his fear. Apparently that was a mistake, because the sound made Arin stop moving and position his hands, slightly pressing down on Dan's skin.

Dan only managed a whimper before his brain could completely register what was about to happen. He wanted to scream, but all sounds were drowned by the increased pressure on his trachea.

Red. Red was the only visible colour. He could feel himself squirming, gagging, and fighting against a hand he could not see but could feel rustling and tearing his clothing.

It hurts, he thought. It hurts, but he wasn't sure "where" it hurt. Maybe it was inside, his heart palpitation told him that could be possible. But it was most likely all the pain was on the outside.

It hurt. It hurt, it really fucking hurt.

 

 

".......why.....?......." 

 


	3. Comfort in the thorns of your shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking from a nightmare, the distraught man is conflicted once again. A confrontation with someone dear to him surely follows.

A scream, a startled voice. He awoke to those sounds. One of them was his, he could tell. But the other one? Was someone with him? Oh right, Barry was there.

For a moment it was difficult to breathe, he trembled with each breath and tightly grasped what he could only assume to be a blanket over him. He felt something press against the right side of his face, a hand?

He lifted his eyes lazily to find his rather concerned roommate, who seemed to have been startled by the loud escape from his nightmare. Barry's hand radiated warmth agains his own icy skin, he welcomed the heat and leaned in to the touch. However, the comfort was short-lived as the hand was removed to wipe something further up his face, apparently he had been crying.

"Dan?..." Barry motioned with his words for him to look directly into his eyes. And as much as he wanted to avert his eyes and look away from Barry's incoming questioning, he did as he was indirectly asked to do.

" Dan, are you...eh...what- " he seemed to be trying to find the correct words to string together, as if he was attempting to avoid any mention of what he had just witnessed. Barry looked flustered, he thought, or maybe he was slightly annoyed. Dan's incoherent thoughts told him that this must somehow involve the pool of red he left behind on his room's doorway, but he deeply doubted that was it.

"What was that about? The whole nose-bleeding and fainting thing?..." He settled for asking. It was obvious Barry regretted the choice of words, but maybe he couldn't find a more subtle way of asking. Dan couldn't tell.

He wanted to answer the question, he really did. But his fear of whatever repercussions telling Barry would bring overpowered that desire. So instead, he apologetically smiled.

"I...really don't know, Bar" he lied, but he had to. The truth would only serve to further harm him, and possibly Barry. So he kept his lips shut, in a thin line that closely resembled a sort of pseudo-smile.

But just as he suspected would happen, Barry didn't believe his poor excuse for a lie. He was more than concerned now, he looked...agitated, maybe even a little afraid. Dan would have wondered why, had he not lowered his graze to find his torso barren of any clothing. His exposed chest revealed a series of dark bruises and mapped scars. Oh. Barry probably removed his shirt, presumably stained with blood.

"...Dan, who did this to you?" Was his voice trembling? He couldn't look at Barry directly anymore, something was preventing him from it. Someone's murky shadow in the back of his mind told him not to. So he kept his eyes cast down, and lied once again.

"I think...the less you know, the better it will be for both of us..." He was a coward, he knew that perfectly well. He thought Barry would stop questioning him at that point, but again he was wrong. His face twisted in pain as two rough hands cupped his face, forcefully turning it to face their owner. Why did Barry look so hurt?

"Why are you protecting them, Dan?Why? Have you seen what you look like? Why won't you tell me?!" Why indeed, Dan didn't know. He wasn't protecting...Arin...he was protecting himself and Barry, at least that's what he told himself.

When no response was given, the hands tightened their grip on his face lightly. Barry brought his face closer, his eyes piercing Dan, as if he could figure out the answer if he stared long enough. Had they been in any other situation, Dan would have thought that their lips would somehow meet halfway. But they were as far from that as could be.

In that split second he wondered what he could call the relationship between himself and Barry, and what exactly were his feeling toward the other. Was it something more than friendship? Something closely resembling what he once felt for...Him? But those thoughts seemed so out of place, so sudden. He pushed back, now was neither the time nor the place for them.

"...so, you're not going to tell me?" Annoyance could be heard in his voice. He didn't say anything, he didn't want to. Barry was young, too young to be weighted down by the same chains and burdens as Dan.

So he carefully removed the hands currently holding his face in place with his slender fingers, and held them together for a moment. Barry wouldn't interpret his silence for an answer, he knew that. Slowly lowering his field of vision to look at their intertwined fingers, he shook his head. He felt guilt and embarrassment rooting themselves inside him, leaving a bittersweet taste.

He didn't need to look up to see if Barry was angry or saddened by his response, he could feel it. His hands stiffened, and slowly began to unwind from Dan's. He felt one last touch from the tips of his fingers, and then nothing. Barry had rushed out of the room, firmly slamming the door closed behind him.

When enough distance was put between them, Dan knew he would not be able to hide his buried tears a moment longer. Streams silently flowed from his closed eyelids, and his arms embraced his torso. Why was he so stupid? Why did it hurt so much more to upset Barry than his physical suffering? Why did Barry have to get involved? How could he fix this?

 

 

"...I'm...sorry..."


	4. Unclean and Unholy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dan is left to wonder how to put his broken pieces back together, a shadowy figure aproaches.

In the empty room, only he and silence congregated into loneliness. In this stillness, Dan wondered between each quiet sob. Was he broken beyond repair? He concluded that, yes indeed, he was simply shards of broken porcelain rattling inside the bag that was his skin.

He curled into himself as if trying to take up as little space as possible, wrapping his arms around his long legs. Would it help to believe that the blanket Barry loosely draped over him could protect him from his fears? He pondered on it, then held on to it as tightly as his hands would allow him.

What a mess this all was, what a bottomless pit he had dug for himself without the need or help from his grave-keeper. He could only sink deeper now. No one would be there to catch him or lift him from his demise.

He saw no way to fix this, even if there was a way it, would either be a temporary solution or a greater burden to bear. He truly wondered though, what could he do now?

Barry was probably too upset at Dan's silence towards his attempts to help to be his saviour... Suzy was clueless about this situation, and nothing in the world could make him tell her. He would rather suffer than ruin her marriage... And anyone else was either too far way or not worth inconveniencing for the sake of escaping the heavy chains binding him. So what was left for him to do?

Whilst his mind toggled with questions and possibilities, a nauseating pain in his gut prompted for him to slowly stand and coil the blanket around his exposed upper body. Carefully moving his long limbs supporting himself to prevent him from toppling over, Dan made his way over to the side of the room opposite of the couch where there stood a door.

As he hesitantly pushing the door open he peered inside, and was greeted by the tired face of a dying man. He was stunned to see the image reflected in the mirror, painted in shades of grey and black with the only colour left being his eyes. He pondered for a minute...who was this tattered person? He extended his arm, reaching a hand out to touch the stranger. And as the other copied this same motion he realised who this was, the broken face belonged to none other than himself. His fingers met with the cold surface of the mirror, as he further inspected his own reflection.

It didn't reveal much he did not already know, his uncared for hair screamed to be fixed in some way and the neglected stubble told tales of sleepless nights and the need for a shower. If there was one thing that managed to surprise him, was the revelation that his face was the only unbruised surface left of his body.

Averting his eyes from his own, and glimpsing at what else of him he could see reflected in the mirror, Dan decided he really needed the cleansing feeling of water on his skin.

Of course, he was unclean in ways that could never be washed away, but the least he could do was to forgive and mend his body. Even if would last mere minutes of bliss.

\-----------------------------------------------

On the other side of door, hand on the knob, stood another man. This particular being was fighting a mental battle, and losing more of himself that he cared to remember. A different kind chain of was coiling itself tighter around his wrists, yet somehow he payed no mind to it.

He stood in place, pondering wether his next step would be forwards or backwards. After all that had happened, after all he had done, would he have to simply stand and wait for his sins that trailed slowly behind him to catch up?

This particular situation had no escape, that much he was aware of. The possibility of some miracle to save them and solve all of his mistakes was as minuscule as it could get. Yet he asked himself if there was regret to be felt from it, if he should have some type of burning hole in his chest regarding his actions.

But as much as reality would allow him to think otherwise, he didn't...and that frightened him beyond reason. "Why?" Was there a reason for this sudden fear of himself- or rather, what had become of him?

Or could it maybe not be fear at all? If it was, why had he placed such hatred in Him? Could he recall why? No... All he bothered to remember was the moment he truly sealed their fate, with those words that coated the future in molten wax and burnt holes into what could have been.

Those words...what were they again?...

 

"...I...hate.....y..........so....m...h...."

\-----------------------------------------------

A freshly awakened sense of uplifting relief washed over Dan as he stepped out of the shower and into his clothes, for the first time in quite in quite a while his heart didn't feel weighted down by a thousand doubts. Towel draped over his shoulders to dry his untameable hair, he made his way into the living-room and back onto the empty sofa. How long had it been since he felt this normal?

Something he hadn't noticed before caught his attention from the corner of his eye, there was a pale mug placed on the small coffee table to his right. Barry must have left it there, he must have meant to give it to Dan when he woke up. Extending his arm to reach the mug, he hovered his hand over the transparent green liquid. To his surprise, a small amount of steam could be felt emanating from inside, it was still somewhat warm.

The presence of the liquid made the state of his parched throat apparent, desperate for its thirst to be quenched. Encircling the cylinder in both hands he gently moved it to touch his parted lips, then slowly tipped it back. The bitter lukewarm liquid soothingly opened his nostrils as he breathed in, and caressed its way down his throat. He concluded the liquid was tea.

He set the mug down as he swallowed the bitterness in his mouth, wiping away a drop as it dribbled down his chin. For a moment he sat in silence, contemplating the scenario set out before him. Barry...he had to somehow find a way to say sorry once he came back, he didn't want to see the hurt expression on his face again.

For the first time since this whole ordeal began, he actually thought to himself...he could not go on like this, it had to stop...the real problem was how he could manage to do it.

In the midst of his thoughts, he heard the slow creaking of a door. He knew that sound all too well. Was it Barry? Snapping his head in the direction of the incoming figure before it could open the door, he began to say, "Barry, I'm sorry I-....."

He froze. The words caught in his throat were reduced to a quiet whimper. It was not Barry. The person standing directly in front of him was the one he least wanted to run into today.

He must have looked like pale and frightened prey, because the figure chuckled as he closed the door behind him. And as he approached the already terrified Dan, in a dreary and malicious voice he spoke...

"...What's wrong Danny? You look surprised to see me...did you miss me, Dan?..."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologise for the delay in the release of this chapter, and thank you for reading up to this point.   
> We are approaching the end of this story, the conclusion of The Dreaded After-Hours will possibly be in the next chapter or two.


	5. Your Agonising Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate has delivered a painful reminder of the reason for his suffering, and now Dan is once again faced with a dangerous situation that could only further damage his fragile hope of escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, admittedly, this fic has spent quite a while without an update. And for that I apologise. As for the story's hiatus, it has come to a close. I was struggling to find a proper ending for it, and now the conclusion is decided. There are still a few chapters left to this before we reach that end though.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading so far, and I hope you enjoy.

There are certain times in life when it is made clear to every individual that the universe has never been more against them, and for the unfortunate Dan this just so happened to be one of those moment. Fate could have not chosen a worse time to choke out the last of his hope, for the one currently making his way over to him was the last person Dan wanted to see today... Arin...

The man wore a maniacal grin, an expression reminiscent of sight Dan recalls seeing once upon a nightmare. The point of intersection between reality and his own safe haven blurred further with each step he took. Until he was right in front of him. But dan couldn't move away, he was a stalagmite frozen in the moment by a swooning terror.

Somehow, Dan had missed the motion of the other man as he seated himself to his side. He immediately stiffened every muscle in his body and seised moving, fearful that even the most minuscule movement would be cause for torment.

In contrast to his agonising constraint, Arin leisurely accommodated himself on the couch. Lazily, he levitated one arm around himself to lay on Dan's shoulders. But on the moment of contact between the two, Dan squirmed to free himself from the other man's grasp. And in the process of jerking his body around, the motion of his limbs shook the coffee table beside the couch.

The sudden trembling sent the ceramic mug toppling over, the impact with the floor shattering it into an uncountable amount of pieces in a loud crash. Amid the scattered shards the remains of a pale liquid could be seen, expanding into a pool of clear green.

It happened in a mere instant, but the impact was enough to make Dan slip over the edge of panic. One glance at Arin revealed a deep fury building up and boiling any restraint he had left in him, readying itself to strike. His convoluted mind overflowed with answers to one simple question: what could he possibly do this instant to save himself? Could he run? And if so, where? Could he scream? And if so, who would hear him? Could he fight back? ....No.....he would have tried, but the terror spread quickly trough his body and his blood.

It was a swift and rapid motion, it almost went unnoticed by the confused and panicking man, but Arin had clutched the hem of his shirt as he stood and dragged him backwards. The skirmish of movement and disarrayed emotions caused Dan's knees to bend, lowering his stature to Arin's level. Everything about this moment paralysed all muscles in his body, but his lungs still breathed, and his mind still squirmed and dreaded the implications of what was to come.

A screech managed to escape his lungs for less than a second, for Arin had brought his hand around and over to painfully cover Dan's agape mouth. When the sharp scream of hysteria died down into a pitiful whimper, he could feel Arin slowly moving behind him. He had brought his face closer to him, his head over Dan's shoulder, and his lips lingered in an unmeasurable distance from his ear.

"That wasn't the brightest thing to do, Dan... What if someone heard you? What do you think would happen to you then?" It was something between a growl and a whisper, but a menacing current resonated and flowed trough the words. The threat was enough to make his mind's growing fear slither down his spine, leaving a trail of panic and despair.

Arin, of course, expected no answer. And Dan could only silently comply with his unspoken command. The silence, however, stretched to extremes Dan thought were impossible at this point in time. And it was neither reassuring nor soothing, to drown his fighting spirit and little resistance was its only purpose.

In contrast to the suffocating tranquility of the outside atmosphere, a clamorous alarm rang in the depts of Dan's subconscious. It beat and battered his brain against the walls of his skull, and warned him to move, to do something and evade what would unfold from the situation. But...it was too late for his body to listen or to even take into consideration the warnings his mind supplied his own poor foolishness.

In the moments that followed, everything surrounding them was nothing but blurred silver, and tiles of fragmented and whispered actions. He could feel Arin's hands move, but where on his body they scratched and bruised he did not know. All of him refused to register any of this was repeating itself once again, his skin felt the pressure of heat but his mind repeatedly denied to name the feeling.

"...why...?" He wished the question could be asked. More thank anything in the world he wanted to answer to that question. But no question was uttered, and no answer was given. The only sounds that resinated trough the silent room were the muffled whimpers, the rustling, and the friction of skins.

It hurt...he couldn't quite place what 'it' was, but wether it was his worn heartstrings or his burning skin, it didn't matter anymore. It hurt, and the pain overshadowed all else around him.


	6. Above The Chasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry wonders if his decisions will bring pain to his friend. He doesn't know yet the repercussions of leaving Dan alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, it's admittedly been a long time since the last update. Sorry about that.  
> The reason beging this absence is because the owner of this acount did not have time to finish this story, and they decided to well, in a way pass over this account to someone else (that's me btw). They explained how the rest of this story is supposed to go down, and don't worry there won't be any changes to how it was originally planed.   
> So, hope you enjoy and again sorry for the wait.

  
Was he imagining things? Or was there something terribly wrong with...everything Dan had done the past couple of days? Were this any other time in his life, he would believe his instinct and somehow convince himself this was all paranoia. But he now had proof of his fears, and that evidence just so happened to be mapped out across Dan's body.

Barry rested his back on the uncomfortable seat in the driver's space of his car, silently contemplating his current predicament regarding his roommate. His storming out of the conversation did not really help, but he felt reluctant to return. What could he say? Somehow his mind had convinced him that going back would not fix anything at all, but he had to try and repel these thoughts, deep down something whispered that Dan needed him more than ever.

He grimaced, silently chastising himself. Of course Dan needed him, the man looked halfway between dead and drowned, something- rather someone- was keeping his lips sealed with what he could only think to be the poisonous adhesive that is the threat of pain.  
....But who?

He shook his head. With the gesture directed at no one but himself he dismissed the question, whoever was responsible mattered immensely less at the moment. The important thing now was...to do whatever he could do to ease his friend's suffering.

"I have to go back..." he bitterly muttered to himself, he wouldn't accomplish anything by sitting on his ass while Dan was fighting this alone. Biting his lip, his hands gripping the steering wheel, he slowly made his way back to his....their home.

  
"...damn it..."

\------------------------------------------------

Barry was one mere step away from mending his mistake, yet as he came to face the door he hesitated. There was something...off about it.   
His eyes narrowed and his lips contorted into a a thin line as the realisation dawned on him:   
The door was unlocked and slightly ajar, no sign of forced entry, but if that was due to anything it was his own idiocy...he had forgotten to lock the door when he left.

He backed away from the entrance when he heard sounds, some kind of rustling and someone's voice...like the whimpers of a dying animal. The thought who that 'someone' could only be sent Barry into full alert. His fist tightened and whitened his worn knuckles, a rabid anger was slowly building in the pit of his stomach.   
Someone was in there with Dan. 

He felt uncharacteristically hesitant, some kind of burden seized him. Was he afraid? Of what? 

Mustering up the courage- no, courage had nothing to do with it, opening a door was an easy task. What held him in place was something he recognised as uneasiness, the weighted emotion that clouded rational thought the same way it has when he first set eyes on his friend's display of bruised colours.

Yes, courage was not what he needed. What he needed was hope that nothing had happened to Dan while he was gone. 

Determined, he approached the door, lightly settling his hand on its surface and pushing forward. He set his foot firmly inside the doorframe and entered the room.


	7. Cradle of Thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before we open that door, let's take a look inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologise for the delay, I thought that starting summer I would have much more time to write but boy was I wrong. Well, here you have it, another chapter in this (seemingly unending) story! Hope you enjoy!   
> (Also, quick warning for implied non-con I guess)

In the suffocating confinement of the room, Dan's mind again and again was repeating to him a simple sentence, as if it were a mantra he had to live for least he be damed to seize breathing and succumb to the blissful unconsciousness.

..."everything is fine... I don't hate this..."...

They often tell you that the brain and the heart work symbiotically and express the same emotion- well, in this case, to believe those words was the last thing his heart wanted. 

He wanted to cry, to call out to someone...but he couldn't. The only one who could have saved him from this end was probably going to avoid him from now on, he thought.

"Arin, please don't...please stop this..."  
He wanted to say, but as Arin's fingers slid into his mouth all words were drowned out in his weak moans.

"I don't want this..."  
He tried to mutter, but groans drowned out all his protests. He felt a burning pressure on his back, he knew Arin was going to...no, he refused to acknowledge it. He refused to admit this was happening again, Arin was not going to...

Dan had a strange and spontaneous though that moment; why, if he was hated so much, was Arin doing something that one would usually reserve for a moment of loving passion? Why would they be doing something that you would only do with the one you love? 

No, this was different. The usual careful caress of a lover's fingers where instead rough claws that scratched as if to tear him apart. The meeting of skin and lips in soft rendezvous that leave behind only stinging rose patches were instead sharp teeth on blooming bruises that left a pain seeping through his skin into him forever. The beautiful rhapsody of moans and murmurs of "I love you" that stained the walls in colour were instead muffled whimpers and chocked screams of desperation.

This wasn't love..."it" had a name, but Dan's mind could not even being to conjure up the words to describe it.

The thought lasted mere moments before he felt that burning feeling again, this time as if Arin's touch scorched him and was slowly turning him into blackened ashes. He saw dark patches on the corners of his vision, and the space around him was spinning so fast for a moment he forgot where he was.

His breathing stopped, caught in his throat along with what would have been an agonising screech had a hand not been covering his mouth. He heard his heartbeat loud on his ears, louder than anything else in the room.  
Everything was opaque, a growing shade enveloping the room.

In the few moments before he completely lost command of his body, he heard a whisper, not loud enough for him to make out what or who was saying it...but he did not expect the voice to belong to anyone but the man who was currently tearing him to shreds from the inside out...

  
"... I......Dan......."

His eyes closed, no longer able to keep up with him or anything surrounding them.

"....you......"

In his delirium he thought maybe it was the sound of the ocean, that terrifying deep pool of blue that could swallow him whole if he took a wrong step...but then again, wouldn't it be ironic the thing that tormented him so much would be speaking to him...and oceans can't speak...  
Maybe he wasn't completely sane.....

 


	8. Dissonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An open door, a dreamless sleep, and I am really bad at compromise and commitment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooooooooooooooo   
> I'm back, finally !   
> How many years has it been since I left this thing here abandoned and alone? No idea, anyway...sorry for the thousandth time and thank youuuuuuu for reading!

Barry wanted to call out his name the moment he entered their house, but an odd feeling kept him from speaking.  
The house was quiet...eerily still. A breath, a quiet whisper and his eyes immediately darted to the sofa. 

Blanket carelessly discarded on the floor, the trembling figure of Dan whimpered in his sleep. A frown upon his brow, sweat rolling down his cheeks, a nightmare? 

"Hey, dan..." kneeling down beside him and reaching up to nudge him out of his slumber, Barry whispered. "Wake up..." 

The startled Dan jumped ever so slightly into the air, his flailing arm colliding with Barry. He almost recoiled due to the slight pain it caused, but he caught Dan's arm and firmly held it to stop him from his rapid movement. 

"No!...."

The thought was lost as his searching, unfocused eyes found the figure in front of him, squinting and trying to focus on just 'who' this was. Who could possibly have saved him from...from who? What was he doing just now? 

"Barry? What-why? What are you doing here?"   
He managed to push out, not with the affliction he meant to obviously, since when had he ever been able to say the right thing? There must have been a truly confused look on his face, since the man in front of him seemed to be trying his best to mimic the face of a kicked puppy. "No, i mean..." he trailed off, shame on his face as he tried to look anywhere but Barry, "...I thought you left..." 

He also wanted to ask for the time, he wasn't really sure how long he'd slept. And he probably would have had a sudden arm-no, two arms? wrapped around his torso in a tight embrace, a head coming to rest again his chest interrupted anything he could have said. 

He didn't need words to interpret what this meant, it wasn't as if it was not completely obvious, but the unsaid apology was enough for Dan to completely give in. He reached behind Barry's neck, resting his arms on his shoulders to return the embrace. 

He would have not heard it had he wandered off in that exact moment, but those words muffled against his skin made his breath catch in his throat in harmony with a sudden and strong beat in his hollow chest. A lightning fast chemical reaction in his brain made time stop for a moment, a shiver down his spin and a wavering drop of sweat on his nose all told him something...this felling is...? 

 

"I was worried about you"


End file.
